


Counting Down

by Alipeeps



Category: Killjoys (TV)
Genre: (heavy on the hurt), Fic Exchange, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Other, Whump, Whump Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 12:06:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12507028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alipeeps/pseuds/Alipeeps
Summary: Johnny knew Dutch and D’Avin would come for him. Didn’t matter what defences this asshole had in his tooled-up crime lord compound, nothing would stop his team from getting to him. The only question was how long it would take them.





	Counting Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the-wandering-whumper (water_4_willows)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/water_4_willows/gifts).



500... 499... 498...

Johnny knew Dutch and D’Avin would come for him. Didn’t matter what defences this asshole had in his tooled-up crime lord compound, nothing would stop his team from getting to him. The only question was how long it would take them. 

486... 485... 484...

The subject of their current warrant was, for the moment, busy crowing about how he’d bested the team of killjoys sent after him and taken one of them prisoner. That was fine with Johnny. Well, not the being taken prisoner part, that was embarrassing and a pain in the ass. Their planned take-down had gone sideways in a serious way and admittedly him being chained to a wall in their target’s heavily guarded compound was something of a set-back, but nothing they couldn’t handle.

471... 470... 469....

But the longer he could keep this guy talking, the better. Because D’Av and Dutch needed time to get through the defences, and he’d really like to still be in one piece when they did. 

457...456...455...

Ah shit. The asshole seemed to have finished reminiscing over his glorious defeat of the RAC’s finest and was regarding Johnny with something that looked worryingly like amusement.

“For a guy who’s hanging from my wall, you don’t seem too worried,” the asshole observed calmly.

479... 478... 477...

“I’m putting on a brave face,” Johnny deadpanned. “Underneath this stoic facade, I’m quaking in my boots.” 

The asshole laughed out loud, tipping his head back like that was the funniest thing he’d heard in weeks. His grin got wider.

471... 469... 468...

“Oh I’d like to believe that, killjoy. I really would.” There was a glint in his eye, a tightness to that shit-eating grin, that told Johnny that he wasn’t lying about that.

462... 461... 460...

“But, no... that’s not it, is it?” Asshole put his finger to his lips, pretending to muse on the question. Oh, he was gonna kick this guy’s _ass_ once he got out of these chains...

“No.” He peered at Johnny intently, as though he could see into his head, see what he was thinking...

“Ohoh!” he exclaimed, feigning surprise. “You...” he chuckled heartily, “you actually think you’re going to get rescued!”

447...446...445...

The asshole roared with laughter. “You think your two little friends are gonna break in here and save the day, don’t you?!”

Johnny kept his expression carefully blank. He was damned if he was gonna give this asshole the satisfaction of knowing he was right. And besides, they were gonna break in here and save the damn day _and_ kick this sonofabitch’s ass all the way to Westerly and back.

429... 428... 427...

The asshole moved in close, his breath hot and sour in Johhny’s face, his smile vicious. “Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, killjoy, but your friends are as good as dead.”

Johnny stared him down, the muscles in his jaw clenching, refusing to react.

412... 411...4-

“Ungh!”

The blow came out of nowhere, the asshole’s fist driving hard into Johnny’s solar plexus, knocking the air out of him. Pain made him want to curl his body up but the chains holding his arms above his head prevented it, leaving him hunching forward, his chin on his chest, gasping for breath. He lost count for several seconds.

398... 397... 396...

“You see, they’ll probably get through the outer perimeter...” 

Johnny lifted his head, still trying to get his breathing under control.

“Almost certainly kill several of the guards...”

The asshole had his back to Johnny, strolling casually around the room as he spoke.

“They _might_ even get into the main compound...”

381... 380... 379...

“If they’re _exceptionally_ good, they might get past the laser-trip automated turrets in the main access corridors...”

_Damn straight they would_.

“..and I _suppose_ they might even manage to kill the phalanx of heavily-armed guards stationed right outside that door.” He was facing Johnny now and the smile was gone from his face.

370... 369... 368...

“But here’s the thing...” He leaned in close again now and Johnny‘s stomach clenched involuntarily.

“Even if they do manage to get through _all_ of that,” he moved in even closer, his nose nearly touching Johnny’s, “the second they even _try_ to open that door without my passcode...”

Johnny had to fight the urge to turn his head away as the asshole put his mouth right by his ear, so close Johnny could feel his breath as he whispered, “...it’ll trigger the failsafe and vaporise _everything_ in that corridor.”

359... 358... 357...

Fear and anger flooded through Johnny in a hot rush and he jerked involuntarily, chains rattling. The asshole stepped back, laughing, pleased to have gotten a reaction, and Johnny’s anger burned hot and bitter in his throat. Oh he was going to beat the _shit_ out of this guy. If anything happened to Dutch and D’Av...

346... 345... 344...

“So you can forget about being rescued.” 

Johnny wanted so much to wipe that smug smile off the bastard’s face.

“Nobody’s coming to get you.”

Johnny grit his teeth so hard his jaw ached.

“Your friends are dead.”

Johnny’s fists clenched.

“And you and I have _all_ -“

*Ngghh*

“-the _time_ -“

*gaah*

“-in the _world_.”

*hunh*

He emphasised his words with punches, short, sharp jabs to the gut that hurt like a bastard, leaving Johnny retching and gasping for breath.

324... 323... 322...

It took longer than Johnny liked for him to get his breath back. He let his head hang down, his breath rasping in his throat. 

“What? No snappy comeback?” Bastard was enjoying this.

A hand gripped his jaw, fingers digging in sharply as the asshole forced Johnny’s head up to meet his gaze. The anger he must have seen in Johnny’s eyes only made his smile wider.

“Where’s your stoic facade now?”

He slammed Johnny’s head back against the wall and the impact made his vision grey out for a second, pain blossoming in a sharp spike that made him cry out. His legs gave way and the manacles dug sharply into the flesh of his hands as his full weight swung from the chains.

315... 314... 313...

“Uunngh” With a grunt of effort, Johnny got his legs back under control, bracing himself against the wall and locking his knees. His head was pounding angrily and he could feel a sticky wetness trickling at the back of his neck. Shit.

307... 306... 305...

A fist slammed into his stomach and his legs gave way again, the sharp pinch of the manacles lost in the hot wash of pain that made his muscles tremble and his body try to curl in on itself.

He hadn’t even managed to get back on his feet when there came another blow, then another, and another... stomach, stomach, ribs, a heavy blow to his chest that made his breath stop for a long moment, his vision whiting out, a crack to his cheekbone that made him see stars, snapping his head back and to the side, slamming into the wall again.

284...

Two sharp blows to his ribs, a shrill of pain crackling up his chest...

273...

A right cross that left his lip split and bleeding...

265...

A heavy hit to the temple that made time stop, blackness crowding in at the edges of his vision...

He swung for a moment, dangling in his chains, blood dripping into his eye, trying to shake the fuzziness from his head.

Where was he? 240 something... 241... 240...

The asshole laughed and grabbed hold of his chin, wrenching his head back.

“What was that? Are you... are you _counting_?”

237... 236...

Johnny spat a mouthful of blood in the asshole’s face and was rewarded with a backhand to the face that made his head spin.

231... 230... 229...

“You still think they’re coming for you.” The asshole grinned nastily as he wiped the blood from his face. “You still think you’re getting out of here alive.”

Johnny ignored him. His wrists and shoulders were agony, the weight of his body pulling at muscle and flesh. He struggled to get his feet under him, every movement sending fresh waves of pain ripping through his stomach, his chest, his ribs...

215... 214... 213...

“You’re gonna die here, killjoy...” 

The asshole had pulled a knife from somewhere and was twirling it idly in his hands. Johnny watched it warily.

208... 207... 206...

“And your friends are gonna die here too.”

He leaned in, pressing the knife blade under Johnny’s jaw, making him lift his chin.

“And it’s your fault,” he gloated.

Johnny glared at him, all too aware of the sharp pressure of the blade against his skin.

198... 197... 196... _Please Dutch, please D’Av.... please be okay.._.

The pressure increased, a sharp sting, and a trickle of wetness running down his throat.

“They’re gonna come in here, guns blazing, to rescue their little friend...” The asshole trailed the knife idly down Johnny’s neck, the tip of the blade scraping roughly against skin and stubble.

“They’re gonna try and break the code on that door...” He waved the knife vaguely in the direction of the large, reinforced, magna-locked door.

“And then,” he pressed the knife to Johnny’s ribs, “they’re gonna get vaporised. Poof!”

The knife sliced into him, a sharp pain that made Johnny hiss, laying open a shallow cut along the line of his rib. He felt blood soaking into his tunic, the fabric clinging wetly to his skin.

175... 174... 173...

“And all-“ Another sharp sting of pain, blood welling from a cut under his collarbone.

“-because-“ A longer, deeper, slice across his torso, the pain making him shout.

“-of _you_.” A sudden impact under his rib cage... not a slice but a stab, a fiery hot pain that ripped a cry from his throat. Asshole kept his hand on the hilt, the blade still buried in Johnny’s flesh, a grin on his face.

159...158... 157... 

Johnny groaned, his face pulling into a grimace of pain, and panted through the pain.

Then the asshole turned his head away, his attention distracted by something. Johnny struggled to catch his breath.

When he turned back, the asshole’s smile was vicious.

“Listen,” he goaded. “You hear that?”

All Johnny could hear was his pulse pounding in his head, his breath whistling in his throat. But no... there... faintly, on the other side of the door... the muffled crackle of gunfire.

142... 141... 140... _Dutch... D’Av... don’t... don’t do it.._.

The asshole twisted the knife in the wound and Johnny screamed.

“Won’t be long now,” the asshole purred.

The gunfire was louder now and muffled shouts came from the corridor beyond the door.

120... 119... 118...

Johnny’s head drooped, dizziness making his head swim, his vision blurring.

“Oh no no no no no, you can’t miss the best part,” the asshole sneered. He jabbed the knife in deeper, angling the blade, the flare of pain jolting Johnny out of his stupor with a ragged moan.

The asshole slammed Johnny’s head back against the wall, a tight grip on his jaw pinning him in place. “Shhhh....” he whispered in Johnny’s ear.

98... 97... 96...

More gunfire. Cries of pain. The heavy thud of something falling against the door. Then nothing. Silence.

84... 83... 82...

_Please Dutch. Please don’t_. 

He tired to cry out, to shout a warning, but the asshole clamped his hand over his mouth, twisting the knife again and laughing at Johnny’s muffled scream.

71... 70... 69...

“Shhhhhh....” The asshole’s breath was hot on Johnny’s ear.

For a long moment there was silence. Then faintly, the electronic bip beep of someone tapping on a keypad.

_No! Dutch!_

Johnny struggled, grunting with pain, but there was nothing he could do.

60... 59... 58...

“Here it comes,” the asshole grinned.

57... 56... 55...

A sudden building whine, a hum of power cables surging, and the CRACK of massive heat and radiation discharge, fading into a sizzle.

_Dutch. D’Avin. No.._.

50...

The asshole stepped back just as Johnny’s legs gave out, the motion ripping the blade free of his body with a wet sound. Johnny dangled helplessly from the chains, his body on fire with pain, his mind reeling. 

His head hung down, his chin to his chest. He couldn’t seem to find the strength to lift it. He blinked heavily. His right pants leg was dark and wet with blood. That was... that was a lot of blood.  
40...

“So, killjoy...”

A pair of polished boots moved into his field of vision. The asshole crouched down, tilting his head to meet Johnny’s eyes.

“And then there was one,” he smiled.

Fury surged up in Johnny’s chest, an angry, hard tightness that fed on the pain coursing through him. He raised his head, tasting the blood in his mouth and intending to spit his pain and despair at his tormentor, but the asshole had learned from the last time and he reared up quickly, aiming a heavy blow that rocked Johnny’s head to the side, sending a spray of blood across the floor at his feet.

30...

Johnny’s vision whited out for a moment, his ears ringing with the force of the blow. When the world came back it was muffled and blurry, and then a sharp surge of pain brought everything back into focus, pulling a hoarse shout from Johnny’s raw and aching throat.

The asshole pressed hard on Johnny’s wound a moment longer, chuckling at the way it made Johnny suck in a ragged, moaning breath, before stepping back.

“Well, this has been fun, killjoy,” he smiled. “But you and your little friends have caused enough disruption to my operation here.”

20...

He twirled the knife, already wet with Johnny’s blood, in his hand thoughtfully, as though deciding how best to kill his prisoner.

Johnny thought about fighting back, but what was the point? He was beat up, chained up, bleeding out... and no-one was coming to save him. Not anymore.

_Dutch. D’Avin_.

10

The asshole grabbed hold of Johnny’s chin, pushing his head back to bare his neck. There was nothing Johnny could do to stop him. His head swam dizzily, his vision beginning to blur in and out. The blade of the knife was a line of tight pressure against the skin of his throat.

“Good bye, killjoy.”

0

Johnny waited to feel the sharp pain of the blade slicing into his neck, ending his life, but it didn’t come. Instead there was a loud crash and a blur of motion and the knife jerked, the point carving a shallow groove in his skin.

The tight grip on his chin disappeared and his head sagged forward. He was dimly aware of a heavy thud, like something big hitting the floor, and then a scream of pain that was quickly cut off, ending with a rattling, gurgling gasp.

A moment later heavy boots stepped into his field of vision and he moaned weakly, expecting the sharp thrust of the knife at any second.

But again, it didn’t come. Instead firm hands cupped his face, gently lifting his head, and worried blue eyes met his, a voice cracking with emotion asking, “Johnny? Johnny, you with me?”

_D’Avin?_

Before he could even find his voice, another face pushed D’Av’s aside, warm, smaller hands replacing those holding his head up. “D’Av, get those bloody manacles open!” she snapped.

_Dutch._

Johnny felt himself grinning, didn’t even care about the blood that dripped from his lips.

“Hey, hey! Johnny! Stay with me!” There was fear in Dutch’s eyes, her face tight with concern.

There was a metallic clanging sound and he moaned as his arms jerked in their chains.

“D’Av!!” 

The urgency in Dutch’s voice was matched in D’Avin’s. “Working on it!” he growled.

A grating, wrenching sound and suddenly the tight metal cuffs holding his arms in place were gone, Dutch quickly shifting her grip to catch him as he slumped, lowering him carefully to the ground.

“Shit, Johnny.” She was looking him over, her quick hands probing his torso and rib cage.

“Aaaahhh!” he cried out, his body jerking rigidly, as she found the deep stab wound under his ribs.

“That sonofabitch!” D’Av was hovering anxiously over Dutch’s shoulder, his face white and tense.

Johnny couldn’t have agreed more. But where...?

He rolled his head to the side, looking for answers, but Dutch’s hand on his chin turned him back to face her. “Eyes on me, Jaqobis. Stay with me, okay?”

He grinned, tried to speak, coughed and tried again.

“Where...?” His voice came out thin and hoarse.

“Dead.” Dutch’s face was set and angry. “And good riddance.”

Johnny frowned. “The warrant...” he rasped. They were supposed to bring him in alive.

“Fuck the warrant.” Dutch snapped.

“Self-defence,” D’Avin stated firmly.

Johnny looked up at his brother, huffing out a gasp of pain as Dutch’s questing fingers found more injuries.

“He said... you were dead...”

D’Av’s lips tightened and Dutch smiled nastily.

“Takes more than a booby-trapped door to take us out, idiot.” She gave him an offended smack on the arm. “Took out the ventilation panel in the roof, and climbed into the ventilation shaft. Set off the trap to fool him into lowering his guard and then dropped in to say hi.”

Looking over her shoulder, Johnny could see the missing roof section where they’d bust through the ventilation panel.

“Lucy, we need you prepped for immediate evac. We’re heading to you now.” Johnny couldn’t hear Lucy’s response to D’Av’s command. Everything was getting fuzzy round the edges now, sound fading in and out.

“Johnny? Stay with me!” Dutch’s face swam over his, her warm eyes damp and blinking.

“Hey, you guys...” He tasted blood in his mouth as he smiled.

D’Av loomed over him, his hand on Dutch’s shoulder.

“You’re late...” 

He let the world fade away.

\---------  
Fin.

**Author's Note:**

> So my prompt for this fic exchange was to use the following tropes: beating, stabbing, bleeding. Hope this fits the bill! :)


End file.
